somewhere, lost.

Routine pulls at every nerve,
wired into my brain, 
grasping any aspect of control
from my fingertips.

I felt something a long time a go.
A rise, always so unpredictable.
I've squeezed my eyelids several times,
savored it like a sunday morning.
But rises turn to waves, to tides, to chronic salt water.
An empty landscape of shells, coral, and sand.
Routine watches as I wait
for a simple drop of rain.